Right Before Your Eyes
by itsavolcano
Summary: Spoilers for 6x06 and onward (especially the recent TVGuide publication). Do not read if you are spoiler-free. / What comes next, after you slay the dragon?


**A/N: **I needed to work through those spoilers. So much to take in, such change ahead. This idea took hold and wouldn't let go. It's unbeta'd, and as such I must claim all typos and rough patches.

**Right Before Your Eyes**

_You find yourself at my door, just like all those times before  
You wear your best apology, but I was there to watch you leave_

("The Last Time"; Taylor Swift & Gary Lightbody)

Jane's arms were around Lisbon as the sky turned a soft rose pink. He knew the color would match the blush in her cheeks but he didn't want to let her go to look. He could feel the heat rising in his own body for a different reason.—_He_ knew what came next. If he were a better man, he would give her what she deserved—something so much more than the words he'd spoken, however heartfelt. He tightened his hold, inhaled the scent of her hair—vanilla with a hint of crisp California air. She felt so solid and _real_ in his arms. His touchstone. He squeezed his eyes tight before dropping his arms and stepping away, quickly forcing the grief from his expression. Her emotions were clear, her smile bright and beautiful. She was a woman in love, and he was about to break her heart.

He drove away as the sky went from blushing pink to a stone grey. He didn't look back to see the hurt in her eyes, the panic as she ran after him. He didn't need to see the pain he'd caused her, he knew what that looked like. No, he wanted to remember how soft and pleased she looked as she stepped shyly back from his embrace. That would be the token he took with him to his final battle. He had a specific room in his memory full of various moments featuring Teresa Lisbon. The way the setting sun made her hair shine, and how his embrace made her pale skin heat up was the perfect final addition.

"Señor!" A heavy hand rapped on the splintering wood around his front door. Patrick Jane opened one eye and squinted against the daylight. Once again, he had let his daydreams carry him away. Pulling up specific memories had become his favorite pastime—specifically those memories belonging to a fiery raven-haired beauty.

"Señor!" While the voice belonged to little Jorge, a local boy he sometimes entertained with magic tricks and fanciful stories, the pounding was too hard to belong to a child. The rapping at the door became more frantic. "Someone is here, looking for you! La policía! She is very beautiful, Señor…"

Jane's heart stuttered. Teresa had found him. But he had been so careful when he disappeared. And more importantly, he had given her every reason to hate him, to move on. She was fiercely loyal, but she had her pride. Even if she knew where he was, she would never seek him without a good reason. He swung his legs off the small makeshift wooden bed. There was no escape, he had to face her.

Bracing himself for sharp words and an even sharper right hook, Jane pulled open the door.

It wasn't Teresa Lisbon who greeted him. For the second time in under five minutes, Jane's heart stuttered. "Et tu, Jorge," Jane looked over to see the small boy retreating, a soda can in his hand. He'd been sold down the river for a Coke.

"You're an idiot," Jane's guest met him with arms crossed.

"Ever just as straight-forward as I remember, Agent Cho." Jane winced, a headache settling in at the base of skull. He wished he'd never opened the door. Had he not fallen under the spell of his daydreams, he might have caught on to the con. "My dear—albeit, clearly, _former_—friend Jorge told me there was a beautiful woman out here. And, Kimball, while you _are_ a sight for sore eyes—"

Cho pointed his chin further down the dusty road where a dark-haired woman stood with a phone pressed to her ear, and her back to the two men.

"Ah, yes, she is lovely." Jane rocked back on his feet, not quite hiding his disappointment.

"But not the brunette you were expecting?" Jane remained silent but gave a shrug. Cho rolled his eyes. "Like I said, you're an idiot."

"To what do I owe this visit and such flattery? You'll forgive if I don't invite you and your colleague in, I wasn't expecting guests and my humble abode is a bit _too_ humble for company." He was annoyed and felt raw from the frustration that the beautiful _la policía_ wasn't Lisbon.

"She," Cho turned towards the woman once again, "is Special Agent Kim Fischer with the FBI."

_Ah_, things were sliding into place. "—I take it, based on the shiny shoes and general 'man in black' vibe, you've upgraded?"

"Yeah." Cho remained stoic. Jane wasn't getting any more off of him than the man wanted to give.

"And you're aware Ecuador doesn't—"

"—Extradite murderers? Yeah, I'm aware." Cho pulled no punches but Jane didn't flinch at term. He knew what he was, and he didn't care. He'd had two years to come to terms with his actions—_twelve_ years, really. Hadn't he always been open with his intentions?

"So what can I do for you and Special Agent Fischer.—Kimball and Kim, partners in crime-fighting, _really_?" Jane shook his head. If he kept talking in circles, maybe they'd give up and leave. He doubted it, since Cho had ten years of experience in dealing with Patrick Jane and his gambit. "Sounds like a 70s sitcom. I hope you have a cool theme song."

Cho gave Jane another look before taking in a heavy breath.

"This is serious, Jane."

"Well, I would expect nothing less. It must be serious to bring the FBI to my door in _Ecuador. _But, hey, got a stamp in the passport, right?" A nagging feeling back to scratch at the back of Jane's mind. "This isn't like you, to 'beat around the bush' so to speak."

Had something happened to Lisbon? Maybe he had it all wrong—maybe she _couldn't_ come with Cho. Jane remained impassive, refusing to show his concern until Cho gave him something, anything…

"We're here about Red John."

xXxXx

Hopping out of her SUV, a sudden gust of wind knocked into Teresa Lisbon and she shook a few fallen leaves from her chestnut locks. While autumn in Washington was colder than autumn in California, it wasn't as cold as those of her childhood in Chicago—not by a long shot. The changing leaves were much prettier in Washington, though—even if they got stuck in her hair.

She shut the heavy front door to the station behind her.

"Good morning, Dale." Lisbon tucked her jacket on the wooden coat rack.

Her deputy, Dale Mathis, tipped his hat up with his index finger and Lisbon smiled. Initially, after taking the job as the Sugar Grove chief of police, Lisbon had been annoyed by all of the small town law enforcement _charm_. It had all felt like a huge cliché. But, with two years under her belt, she had grown to embrace it. And it helped that she had nowhere else to go. Not after the explosive showdown with Red John and the total upheaval of law enforcement in California. Lisbon pushed the thoughts of that dark time from her mind. None of that mattered now, she had moved on.

"I'll be in my office. Should be a light day." Every day was a light day in the middle of nowhere.

"Maybe not. Walter was in here earlier. It's not even nine and I'm pretty sure he was already drunk. He'll probably be back for his afternoon shouting match. Like it's my fault his wife ran off—Maybe if he'd give up the hooch, she'd come back…"

Lisbon only nodded. Initially, her deputy had been a man of few words—reminding her of her former second-in-command. But as time passed she had discovered her deputy was quite a chatterbox, and a bit of a gossip. "Oh! And Rodney down at the lake was complaining about some ransacked cabins."

"Last time that happened it was his sons and their friends."

"That's what I said, but Rodney said the boys are back East with their mother."

"Raccoons, then," Lisbon smiled. "Let me know with Elsbeth comes in, I have a few things for her to type up and process." Dale nodded and Lisbon shuffled back to her office, closing the door.

She added a few scoops of French roast and water to the small coffee maker next to her desk, turning it on to percolate.

Sitting at her desk, Lisbon fell into her daily routine. Shuffling through the stacks of papers on her desk, filing them in the proper folders. Today was Tuesday—the last Tuesday of the month—which meant it was Lisbon's designated day to review and finalize all budgetary issues accrued during October. She had to send it off to Olympia by Friday. She signed a printout and picked up a manila envelope when something caught her eye, peeking from under her notebook. A playing card, the ace of clubs.

Lisbon didn't keep a deck of cards in the office. She didn't keep a deck of cards in her house—hadn't played poker in _years_. It reminded her of those evenings spent in the back room of that club, unwittingly surrounded by people working to undermine everything she held be to true and of value. It reminded her how blind and naïve she had been, sitting in the lion's den.

No, Teresa Lisbon hadn't played poker since—

_"I've upset the ecosystem." Jane had brushed aside her gratitude for getting Van Pelt into the computer program seminar, so calm and strangely confident, sitting in her office. _

_"I think you've been spending too much time at the museum…" She took the bait, shuffling the deck of cards, a tricky challenge with her small hands._

_"… Don't try to 'razzle-dazzle' me, money talks." He leaned in, a predatory look in his eye—maybe he _had_ spent too much time at the museum. He went over the stakes and she dealt out the cards. With one glance at his cards, his predatory look shifted to boyish glee. His eyes nearly went cross, the cards were so close to his face. _

_"Whaddya got?" Lisbon struggled to keep her face neutral, tried not to bite her lip—one of her tells._

_"All in." He pushed his stakes, gummy dinosaurs, to the center of the table. Lisbon was not about to be conned by a con, though. _

_"You're bluffing, I call." And without a word he showed his hand: the ace of spades and the ace of clubs. _

_"Really? You cheated?" Her jaw dropped. He looked even more gleeful and confident. _

_"I'm going to smoke you." _

That moment, one of the last moments before everything had fallen apart, was a favorite memory she sometimes let play out in her mind. She didn't like to think about Jane often, the pain was too deep, the betrayal too encompassing. But sometimes, when she wanted to remember how he smiled, she would remember playing poker in her office and eating their stakes.

She tucked the card into the top drawer of her file cabinet and returned to her budget spreadsheets and forms. She might have all the time in the world now, but she wasn't about to spare another thought on Patrick Jane. It had been two years since he… _left_. She needed to keep looking forward, to keep moving forward. She couldn't live in the past, no matter how lovely some of the memories_. _

_A fresh apple from a farmer's market, pulled out of his jacket pocket and slipped into her hand. _

_A ride in a fast car to a fancy restaurant. _

_A pony in her office. _

_A new white sofa she had pretended to despise. _

Lisbon glanced around her small office. There was no room for a sofa in here. No room for a leather couch in the front office, either. People of Sugar Grove, Washington didn't take naps in on the company dime.

Suddenly, Lisbon heard the start of a disturbance in the front office. A man shouting—was it Dale? Only Walter, the local drunk, could make Dale shout. Lisbon felt sorry for the man, but she wasn't against putting him in the holding cell until he sobered up. Dale's voice escalated. His voice sounded pinched. She couldn't make out what he or his antagonist was saying, only pitches and tones.

Taking a large gulp of coffee and putting her gun in her holster, Lisbon moved to the door.

She pulled herself to her full height, squared her shoulders and flung open the door, prepared to face a belligerent townie. Dale spun around, relief at seeing his chief. But he failed to notice the stunned expression on Lisbon's face, or how she was frozen at her door.

"Ah! Chief, thank God. Sorry to cause such a ruckus.—But this guy," her deputy hooked a thumb over at his sparring partner, "is a real piece of work. He wanted to know—"

"Teresa," Patrick Jane leaned forward, his hands pressed on Dale's desk. A soft smile played at his lips, his eyes dancing in apprehension. He was waiting for her to move, to say something. Lisbon's world tilted on its axis. Dale looked between the two of them, confused. Wordlessly, she took a full step backwards and shut her door with an abrupt slam.

Jane moved around the desk but Dale stepped in his path, his hand on Jane's chest.

"Sir, I don't know who you are but you are not authorized to be back here. In fact, I think it's time you left." The deputy's tone took on a crisper, more professional edge that he hadn't possessed moments earlier.

"Deputy, I can see you care for her, would throw your body between her and… a falling branch, or whatever is the greatest killer 'round these parts. I appreciate that, truly. But believe me when I say, nothing—not even you and your linebacker physique—will keep me from going in that office."

"Is that right?" Dale grinned, baring his teeth and further squaring his shoulders. "How do you suppose you're going to get in there, then? Because you're not getting past me."

Just as suddenly as she had slammed the door, Lisbon yanked it back open. Both men jumped. Dale was flabbergasted and Jane was amused as Lisbon wordlessly motioned for him to enter her office.

By the time Jane reached the door, she was behind her desk. It was a moment they had shared hundreds of times, but now it was different, the office, the location—_they_ were different. He closed the door with a tentative push.

Lisbon remained dumbstruck, refusing to look at him. Her face was red, and he couldn't tell if it was from shock, anger, or both. They hadn't spoken since… since she told him to run. _Jane, GO!_

"Nice digs." Jane shuffled on his feet, his hands shoved in pockets of his pants. He'd long ago abandoned his typical waistcoat, it felt too restrictive. "Don't you want to know why I'm here?" Jane struggled to keep his tone light and careful. Lisbon's demeanor was that of a caged animal, and if he approached her at the wrong angle, she could bite his hand.–He would, of course, deserve it.

"No," Lisbon croaked. "I'm guessing it had something to do with the seven calls from Cho I managed to dodge."

"Dodging Cho?" Jane absorbed that information. The Lisbon he had left two years ago had been so dedicated to her team he couldn't imagine wha would cause her to ignore their calls.

"Yeah, I assumed he'd want me to come to Califor—" Lisbon stopped and shook her head. It was so easy to slip back into the rhythm of their relationship. Jane watched Lisbon's eyes shutter as she moved past the shock of seeing him and the cold anger took hold. "No, Jane, I don't want to know why you're here. I want to know _how_ you're here. Why weren't you put in federal lockup the minute you stepped back on US soil?"

"Ah," Jane nodded. Stalling, he moved over to the small coffee pot and poured himself a cup. He winced; Teresa always did like her swill strong. He ignored her surprise as he took another gulp. "Struck a deal with dear old Cho.—Did you know he's working with someone named Kim Fischer? Kim and Kimball, I mean, _really_. Laughable."

Jane sat in her spare chair and made a show of throwing one knee over the other. The familiarity of the moment tugged at Lisbon's heart—and pissed her off.

"Jane."

"Ah, yes, right. My deal. It seems the California law enforcement has taken quite a beating these last few years—" He arched an eyebrow at Lisbon's indignant snort. "Indeed. And the alliterated dynamic duo has offered me immunity for my crimes in return for my assistance with cases."

"Just like that?" Lisbon was staggered. After the mockery Patrick Jane had made of the law, they were welcoming him back with a warm embrace and a chuck on the chin? Surely their close rate hadn't dropped so severely they needed to chase down an ex-con—a murderer on the lam in South America?

"Oh, I'm sure there are some stipulations. Mostly they're concerned that a number of criminals who were locked up during that time will get out on technicalities. They want me to go through some old cases and make sure everything's locked up tight. Maybe look for untainted evidence on those cases that might fall apart. You know, like old times. And while I don't exactly trust Agent Fischer as far as I can throw her, and I'm sure Cho knows more than he's letting on, I am a free man—_to a_ _point_."

"Then why are you here? This isn't California."

"I _had_ noticed, Teresa." He cast another look around her office. "It's nice, small but nice. No room for a sofa though."

"I'm not going back to California."

"Oh, believe me, I told Cho you'd be against coming back. Wasn't even going to ask it."

"So you're here because?"

"I missed you." His face grew serious for the first time since he walked into her office.

"Yeah, right."

"Truly," Jane leaned forward. "If you think a day went by that I didn't miss you—"

"You could have avoided missing me. You could have never killed… _him_. Then you could have stayed."

"Running was your idea, Lisbon. I was fully prepared to serve my time."

"And how do you think that would have played out, Jane, having just slain the man with the largest network of corrupt cops in his pocket? You think they would have booked you first, or just shot you in the back of the car on the way to the lockup?" Lisbon's anger escalated, all of the feelings she had spent two years ignoring came roaring back. Jane inhaled and set the paper cup on the edge of her desk.

"So you let me go." He studied her. "You let me go, and lost your job because of it."

"It was better than the alternative." Lisbon's anger began to recede. He gave an understanding nod, and they both grew quiet.

"Here's the thing, Lisbon," Jane began, "while I am welcomed back on US soil, it seems the FBI doesn't exactly have the capacity to properly utilize a brilliant mind such as mine." Again, Lisbon snorted.

"And this affects me, how?"

"I need a… I believe the term they used was 'handler' but that sounds quite undignified. _A_ _handler_, like an elephant at a carnival." _Jane distracting Lisbon with an elephant and an apple as he took off in her car._ She was tired of being ditched by Patrick Jane.

"Good luck to that person." She knew what he wanted and she wasn't about to agree to anything. She liked her life in Washington. It was quiet and had a low (almost non-existent) rate of murders. She had taken up hiking and cross-stitching.

"Teresa," Jane leaned further on her desk. "Are you going to make me beg?"

"No, you don't need to beg." Lisbon's voice was soft and Jane heard an edge of decisiveness in her tone. "I'm done, Jane. I can't be your 'handler' again."

"As I said, I'm not crazy about that word—we can call it something else."

"Jane." She stood and he met her eyes. "I'm happy you're alive and well. I'm happy you're able to return to the States. But I can't—I can't do this again. I can't stand by while you wreak havoc only for me to clean up the mess."

Jane pulled himself to his feet. "It would be different."

"No, it would be exactly as before. And eventually, you'll grow bored and you'll leave." She felt treacherous tears start to gather behind her eyes. "I can't go through that again."

"You won't have to." He inched closer.

"I've heard that before."

"I promise, Lisbon. I won't leave again."

"What's that saying? 'Insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different outcome'?"

"This outcome will be different."

"You can't promise that. And it doesn't matter, because I'm not agreeing to anything."

"How about this? I promise that the next time I run off—since you seem to think it's inevitable—I'll take you with me." He ran a hand down her arm, ignoring her slight flinch as he took her hand.

She looked up at him, the coldness she'd felt for so long was beginning to thaw. She hated how easily she tended to give in. "I can't be your handler, Jane."

"We'll call it something else," he repeated.

"Jane."

"Come back with me." He was so close now, his breath fluttered through her hair. His lips ghosted along the slope of her cheek. She felt her body flush with heat.

"You're trying to manipulate me," she murmured against the lapel of his jacket.

"No, my dear," Jane pulled her further into his embrace and brushed hair back from her shoulders. "It's just been a while since I held a beautiful woman in my arms."

"You broke my heart," she whispered and he dropped lips to her forehead.

"I know, let me make it up to you."

"How? By dragging me back to California to put out fires you'll inevitably start?"

"Well, I was thinking we'd go for lunch and then work our way towards starting fires," his voice dropped a bit and Lisbon blushed at the implication.—_That_ was different. She stepped back from him, his close proximity made it difficult for her to stay angry. While they had spent a quarter of their lives together, the last two years apart had created a deep fissure. It would take careful effort for that fissure to heal. Jane sensed her reluctance. "Besides, Cho's in the car. I left the windows cracked, but he's probably getting hungry."

"What," Lisbon's body language sharpened and she shot a look at the window. A black sedan was parked next to her SUV. She could barely make out Cho's silhouette, a book in his hand. "You left Cho outside?"

"His idea. Something about me absorbing the shrapnel from the blast. I'm not sure, but I think he's afraid of you."

Panic began to settle through Lisbon, again. Her morning had started out so typical, and now her former consultant was holding her hand and she was entertaining the idea of returning to California.

"Jane, I really don't think I can go back—"

"Everything will be fine."

"I like it here." He saw through her lie.

"You had the rug pulled out from under you, Lisbon. A system you trusted—and people in that system—turned out to be corrupt, and neither of us suspected." Jane squeezed her hand. "It's OK. We'll go back and right all of those wrongs. Make the system ten times stronger."

"Why? Why would you want to do that?"

"I owe it to someone I care for greatly," he squeezed her hand again. "Plus, I don't have a whole lot going for me these days."

"The great Patrick Jane is _bored_? That's why?"

"Are you going to gloss over the first half of that and just go straight from the negative?" He hid a grin. _Oh, how he'd missed her. _She moved to her desk and snapped her badge to her belt. "What are you doing?"

"You said something about lunch."

"Yes, I did." This time Jane couldn't hide his grin.

"Don't look at me like that, I haven't agreed to anything. I'm not giving you an answer until I've had a chat with Cho. Something—let's call it experience—tells me you're holding out on the details."

"I'm sure there's job benefits, health insurance, or whatever, I don't know. I wasn't paying attention when they were rambling about that stuff."

Lisbon rolled her eyes and moved to the door. Before she could yank it open, Jane pulled her into his arms once more. He held her until he felt her relax against him.

"Promise me, Jane. Promise this isn't a trick." Lisbon tucked her head against his shoulder. "Because if you leave again—"

"I'm not going anywhere, Teresa. Two years was long enough, wouldn't you say?" He ran his hands down her arms before stepping back. His brow creased as he studied her, taking note of the soft pink flush dancing across her features as he coasted his thumb along her cheekbone. He thought of the soft pink of a setting sun, Lisbon's wide-eyed happiness as they stood by the side of the road. Never again would he break her heart or abandon her trust.

"What?" She asked, blushing even more under his studious gaze. He smiled and stepped away.

"Just creating a new memory." Pulling the door open, he followed her out, his hand falling to the small of her back.

FIN


End file.
